The Thing - Part 2

Chapter 2

After four and a half hours of travel, MacReady left the plane carrying only a backpack. He relieved his anxiety about a cigarette as he surveyed the shops that the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport offered. At the end of the corridor, he saw a red cross indicating the presence of a pharmacy. Without wasting time, he accelerated his pace toward his goal.

He walked through the door of HealthPoint SeaTac and headed straight for the counter.

— Hello, I want one of those diabetes tests- he said, pointing to the shelf.

— May I help. Do you have any family history? - the clerk asked, complying with the protocol.

— Yes, my father was diabetic - he lied to get rid of the inquiry.

— Eleven dollars.

As he drove through Dufry Duty Free he noticed the car cleaning product cans used on the giant trucks in Alberta. He remembered immediately the pranks Tyson was making with that spray to warm the mood.

He calculated how many cans fit into his backpack. He picked up all that were available and ran to the counter to make the payment.

— I need a stove lighter - he said, pointing to the display case behind the clerk.

When leaving the airport can finally meet your desire for a cigarette. He took the first drink as if his life depended on those substances. He waved a taxi across the street with the glass open, despite the cold. As soon as he sat in the back seat, the driver said through the rearview mirror:

— Good Morning.  Please, do not smoke in the car.

He took one last drag before throwing his cigarette out the window. He indicated the address of Syntronic Medical Research. That was a real shot in the dark. In some incomprehensible way, he believed that Childs was associated with the company.

A young blonde girl hugged her husband and two children stamped a billboard from Syntronic Medical Research as they left the airport. The slogan read:

— Your health is our concern.

The taxi passed through the city practically in a straight line. He descended on Westlake Avenue North, near number one thirty-two. Immediately he entered a shop selling kebabs. He checked the time on the clock of the man sitting at the counter: eight-forty-five. He chose one of the round tables with tall upholstered benches and ordered a coffee. From where he was, it was possible to guard the entrance to the parking lot of Syntronic Medical Research.

After fifteen minutes guarding Syntronic's driveway, MacReady noticed that the woman in the box, wearing a typical Muslim veil covering her head, paid attention to her interest in the parking lot. Before he could think about what to do, he saw a white honda entering the parking lot: it was Childs.

He got up hurriedly, still under the gaze of the woman in the box. He unzipped his backpack and picked up a spray can, the stove lighter, and the diabetes test. As soon as Childs closed the car door, he said,

— Do we still have surprises for each other?"

A shiver ran down Childs' spine. He recognized that voice immediately. He turned to look at the obvious.

— MacReady? What the hell ...

— You know what to do Childs! he said, throwing the diabetes test. He turned on the hob and pointed the spray toward him.

He read the test label and quickly understood what it was intended to do. I knew MacReady was not a man to bluff. He opened the box and pointed the container toward his former colleague. He stuck his right index finger on the needle, clearly showing the blood still flowing.